


Tear Away

by mirroredinkparadox



Category: The Legend of Zelda
Genre: allusions to character death, grotesque, vague references to Majora's Mask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirroredinkparadox/pseuds/mirroredinkparadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spinning clocks, tolling bells, a haunting melody - no mask can protect him from this pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear Away

The final scream rent the air even as the void engulfed him, and the hero wearily sank to his knees, grip on the ancient blade's hilt going slack. His vision doubled, grew dark, and slowly righted itself. Letting his head fall back, he raked one hand through his dirty, matted blonde hair, wincing when the ruby studded gold hitched on the snarled locks and tore some hair free.

"It's finally over...Rise, Hero of Time, and breathe easy again." Her voice did little to soothe the strange pain in him – very much a physical pain, he realized, as one hand pressed to his side and came away sticky with blood.

"Link!" This voice brought a weary smile to his face, lips pulling away from stunningly white teeth, brilliant against the grime coating his skin. The brilliant form dropped onto his shoulder, holding onto his earring carefully.

"When did the Beast hit you? Oh, I should have payed more attention!" cried the fairy, wings suddenly fluttering to a weak halt and falling limply against her back. Link felt his mouth twist into a scowl.

"Navi, it was bound to happen – it's fine, I didn't notice until just now either." A wave of pain crashed through him, dropping another hot stone of pain into his stomach. He gasped and doubled over, dislodging the panicked fairy as his vision finally went black, the Master Sword falling completely from his blood-tacky hand.

* * *

The blackness did not remain so pure for long. An infernally loud, incessant ticking filled his ears, mingling with the toll of enormous bells and crying. He wasn't falling – yet – so much as drifting. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Sheik murmuring about the river of time, and tried to laugh. His chest seized, and he gasped, sitting up against the battered, ancient wood. Wood? One hand groped across the surface, coming away dusty and with an ill-placed splinter in the base of his thumb. Whimpering, he sucked the wound, realizing slowly how small his hands were. The hero dropped his eyes and took in his attire – not unlike his adult garb, but nevertheless obviously smaller. He was a child again – not so young as when he'd first met Zelda, but a child nevertheless. Something chinked into the wood above him; he jumped and barely twisting away from the heavy blade embedded in the wall. The slumped form across from him lifted its head and grinned, mouth too wide, teeth too long, too bright. His stomach lurched. Sloppily applied face paint gave the image of a clown, not a warrior, the edges flaking away to reveal solid black skin. White eyes, pupil and iris-less, widened considerably with the smile. He'd been wrong.

Its smile wasn't bright – it was littered with pieces of flesh and stained with old blood, save for the canines. These were etched with impossibly tiny images, a band of blue-silver metal around the base of each tooth. Link jerked to his feet, one hand curling up around the hilt of the megalithic sword. The odd, twisted blade, with its shimmering enameled surface, chimed lowly when the Goron's Bracelet knocked against it when he scrambled to pull it free. His stomach lurched and fell again, a song rippling through his mind, hollow and melancholy. His throat clenched, and he struggled to breathe, releasing the hilt of the sword with a whimper. The creature giggled, then howled with laughter, doubling over, pale hair falling over its face. Something sobbed above Link's head; he let his eyes rise, mind shutting down slowly.

The blade had pierced some soft, fleshy form, gleaming a dull purple in the gloom. It sobbed and pulsed, writhing a little, the limp spines around its edges whirring weakly. Link choked back a scream and scrambled away from the sword, the grinning specter, and the pulsing, sobbing creature impaled to the wall.

" _You've met with a terrible fate – haven't you?"_ He sank his fingers into the dirt floor, clenching his eyes shut and muttering over and over, "No, it's not real, it's just a dream, wake up Link, wake up, _wake up!_ "

" _You've met with a terrible fate – haven't you?"_ Laughing, crying, spinning clocks and masks – masks, nailed to faces, ripped away, leaving only the ragged bleeding edges of the true form. Zelda's mask, Malon's mask, Saria, Nabooru, Ruto, Navi, Rauru, Kaepora Gaebora, Ganon! Link. He had a mask. _Don't we all?_

" _You've met with a terrible fate-"_

_A terrible fate._

_Terrible._

_Fate._ He lurched to his feet with a scream and kicked the creature away, hands scratching, gouging at the painted skin, the laugh getting louder and louder, teeth gnashing around his fingers as he ripped the mask away to see-

His own eyes. His own face. Blood running through one rotting half of a blackened face, but his face, nevertheless, burnt, mangled beyond repair. The creature howled with laughter, fingers curling around his throat and lifting him, smoke and rotting fruit on its breath.

"You've met with a terrible fate – haven't you?" The blade burst free of the writhing mass of purpled flesh on the wall, flying, singing, through the air into them – piercing his heart, embedding itself into the other wall, joining them with steel and moon dust and bleeding hearts. His scream was too high, too lilting, like a sing-song mockery of his pain. The sobbing grew louder, mingled with some bright, familiar chime – was he crying? Blood and tears and laughing, lipless, snarling grins, tear away the mask to see-

* * *

His eyes snapped open, his breathing ragged. Cool fingers traced his features, brilliant eyes staring down at him with concern.

"Link?" Zelda asked softly, eyes darting between him and someone in the shadows. He allowed himself to nod, eyes widening at the soft, haunting giggle.

"Very good, Your Highness. His was a terrible fate – but a dream, nothing more." He fought to scream, to jerk away from Zelda and slam the Master Sword into the grinning man, hands clutching weakly at the suddenly stifling, scratchy sheets.

"No... no..." The grin widened, and something buzzed in his ears as he took in the collapsed, barely glowing form in the bottle in his hands.

"You've met with a terrible fate – haven't you?"

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of implies either a. Majora's Mask didn't happen in reality, b. it occurred in another dimension, or c. Link came back from Termina and was scarred by the events that occurred there. Also, a friend was obsessing over Ben at the time. Aaaaaaaand...that's it, actually.


End file.
